Leah tapped her phone, scrolling through her color-coded schedule. No mysterious red marks today, making Emma wonder what on earth she reserved that color for, if not the panel.
“Your panel starts at ten-thirty—the headline isAntiheroes We Can’tQuit.”
Emma raised a brow. “Subtle.”
“Right? Catchy, though. You’re on with Jenna Vexley—she directed that Romeo and Juliet remake, but everyone’s a vampire, and it ends with an orgy. Huge box office hit. Talks fast, dresses in latex, fans adore her.”
“Okay.” Emma exhaled quietly. This sounded worse by the minute. “At least we both have a...professional appreciation for Shakespeare?”
“And then Tyler Blake,” Leah continued, ignoring the comment. “He played the android boss inChronosphere. Looks like he was bottle-fed steroids as a baby. Wouldn’t recognize an original thought if it whacked him across his perfect, spray-tanned face.”
“Great.” Emma grimaced. “So I’m the story nerd wedged between the Vamp Queen and a himbo cyborg.”
Leah’s face lit up. “Judgy! I like it. Bring that energy to the stage, people will love it.”
Emma smiled despite herself, but it didn’t loosen the knot in her stomach.
Sure, she’d done her fair share of event appearances sinceThe Bonds of Lighttook off a few months ago. But readings and book signings were one thing. An onstage panel at San Diego Comic-Con? With eccentric stars beside her? That was something else entirely. What if she froze up completely? Or worse, if she started rambling incoherently in front of hundreds of people.
“Seriously, Leah. How am I supposed to carry a conversation with those two? On stage, in front of actual humans?”
Leah flicked her hand dismissively. “The moderator will take care of it, and you’ll do great. You’re the writer. The brain. The mystery. All you have to do is speak in metaphors and gush about how you love a good morally gray character.”
“I do love a morally gray character,” Emma muttered.
“I know, babe. That’s what brought you here.”
“Fine. Let’s assume I survive. What happens after?”
“Lunch,” Leah said firmly. “Just us. We decompress and celebrate your obvious triumph with sushi. There’s a place down by the marina that has excellent squid—”
“No squid,” Emma blurted.
Leah looked up, surprised, then rolled her eyes. “Right, your weird octopus thing. I forgot.”
Emma let out an indignant huff. “I don’t understand why it’s considered more normal to be scared of snakes. This is like eight snakes covered in suction cups, all connected to a single brain. Asmartone, Leah.”
“Yes, darling, heard it all before.” Leah flicked her hand dismissively. “Squid-free sushi it is. Plus laughing about all the stupid things Tyler Blake inevitably says at the panel. Then you have an off-site event—reading and signing at Lark & Page, up by Balboa Park. Small crowd, gorgeous little bookstore, completely your scene. No vampires or cyborgs, promise. Or tentacles.”
Emma sighed into her coffee. At least the reading was something she could look forward to. She already longed for it.
Leah shot her a pointed look over her oat milk cappuccino. “Also? You were awake at six, answering work emails. Which was very decidedly not part of your official Comic-Con schedule. I do not have a color-code for that.”
Emma lifted her mug in a vague half-shrug. “I have no idea what you’re—”
“Nice try, Whitehart. I saw the little glowing screen from under my mask.”
“Fine. It was just a quick check-in.”
Judging by the flat look Leah gave her, she hadn’t passed the bullshit detector.
“Okay,” Emma admitted, “and a tiny little deck review.”
Leah dropped her fork with a soft clatter. “Emma. You’re at Comic-Con. You’re about to be on a stage with people who’ve directed, starred in, and probably slept with half the genre industry. And you’re still editing Q2 slides for an industrial components company?”
Emma tensed, the words chafing against something that already felt raw. “I have commitments, Leah,” she said pointedly. “As long as I still have my job, I need to make sure things run smoothly. People are depending on me.”
Leah reached across the table, fingers warm against the back of Emma’s hand. She twitched at the unexpected touch, the instinct to pull back hitting like a reflex.
